Raindrops Exploding on Her Windshield

A short about...get this...a breakup. Enjoy.




Doesn’t rain make everything seem so much more dramatic? It’s as if normal situations can be made more intriguing or heartfelt by this most natural of occurrences. Take for example the situation I’m in now; I’m sitting in a car with a girl. Actually she’s my girlfriend, well, I guess up until a few minutes ago she was my girlfriend. She’s been talking for awhile now…two minutes, two hours, I don’t know. I can see her lips moving, I can smell her hair, I can feel her hand on mine but I do not hear a word she’s saying. I have a feeling I got the idea she was trying to get across to me though. She said; “I’m sorry. I just can’t do this anymore. I can’t be with you.” After that I sort of got sucked into my own mind. There’s a chance my heart is breaking at the moment but I can’t really be sure now that I’ve retreated into these inconsequential thoughts. If this was happening on a warm, sunny Tuesday in the Spring would I feel differently?

But it’s not Tuesday; it’s Friday. It’s not the Spring, it’s Fall and last but not least, it is not sunny and warm. It’s dark, it’s cold and the rain is pouring. I look at her again. There still isn’t any sound coming from her moving mouth. All I can hear are the raindrops exploding on her windshield. The rapid percussion surrounding us is almost hypnotic. She looks really cute, more so than usual. Maybe it’s the darkness we’re both sitting in; maybe the shadows are just playing tricks on me. A car goes by and disproves my theory. Headlights momentarily illuminate her and I can see she’s better looking now than I can recall offhand. Huh…I’m sure that’ll make all this easier.

Perhaps I should start paying attention to what she’s saying. Maybe if I do there’s a slim chance I can argue my way back into a relationship. What was it she said again? “I’m sorry. I just can’t do this anymore. I can’t be with you.” She used the word ‘can’t’. She didn’t use ‘won’t’ or even ‘don’t’…she said “I can’t”. That choice of words may mean something. If she didn’t love me anymore I’m pretty sure that would have been in the opening lines. If it was something I did or was doing wrong one would assume she’d use the phrase “I don’t want to be with you.” Using the phrase “I won’t be with you.” suggests something similar to the latter. In that I was doing something wrong to upset her or disappoint her or…hmmm…maybe even disgust her. But her inflection, the tone of her voice, the way she is presenting all this does not indicate that. Using the word ‘can’t’ is implying that there is some outside force at work here. It’s not me, which I can take some solace in, but I’m worried it may be some cop out like her being too busy with work or not being in the right place for a relationship or some other lie equally full of bullshit. If it’s not me I still have a chance. She could be the one for me, maybe. I could be making a huge mistake if I let her go…I really think I should start paying attention.

Suddenly it stops raining; the silence on the street permeates the car. That is, until she speaks.
“What do you think?” she asks.

I look her in the eyes. The truth is that I have no idea what I think or what I think she wants to hear. I really don’t even want to say anything. I could spout off everything she does that pisses me off. I could rant about all the transgression she’s made against me. I could beg and plead for a second chance. These are all cards I have played with other women in the past with varying degrees of success. Some of these hands have worked out for awhile…some got denied right of the bat. I feel a bluff coming on…

I continue to bide my time. The longer I’m silent the more introspective, and thereby intelligent, I appear. Interestingly enough, I’ve found that the more introspective and intelligent a guy appears the more attractive he is to his pursuers. She continues to stare at me as I formulate what I’m about to say. No lies this time, no empty promises…just the truth and we’ll see how that plays out for a change of pace.

“I think you’re wrong and I think this is a shame.” I say finally.

She’s shocked and I’m shocked that she’s shocked. This is probably a good thing. It’s a fair bet that she didn’t expect me to say anything along those lines. It put her off-balance. This gives me an advantage, an advantage I will readily exploit. You see, she was probably prepared for one of those three plays I mentioned a moment ago. More likely than not, she had a comeback set up for each one of them. But this, me being completely arrogant while coming off hurt and disappointed…she could have prepared for that in the least.

Her eyes are fixed on me. She’s staring; her mouth is even hanging open a little. I’ve dumbfounded her. I’ve definitely got her and it’s time to seal the deal.

“Well is that’s it I guess I’ll be going. Goodbye Marissa.” I turn from her and reach for the handle.
“Wait,” she says “can I come in?”
“Absolutely.”

Its hours later and I’m still awake. She lies naked next to me wrapped in a translucent sheet. A part of me feels guilty and I have no idea why. I’ve done nothing wrong…technically. I said exactly what I want to say and it was 100% honest. So what’s this gnawing at my insides? What is the feeling of misdeed having been done? My arm beings to cramp and I try to pull it out from under her without waking her. I slowly understand what I’m doing, why I’ve done what I’ve done and why I did it so well.

I was horny.

That’s what this really boiled down to: sex. Who was I kidding? My heart wasn’t breaking; I was just upset because sexual gratification would now require effort. That is why I feel terrible. Do I even love Marissa? Did I ever? Has my adolescent sexual addiction become so powerful that I’d convince someone I loved them merely for easy access? Apparently, yes. She stirs in her sleep and sleepy eyes open slightly to see me staring at her. I know what she’s thinking; something along the lines of me being so sweet, so romantic as to watch her slumber. The truth is, I’m just trying to think of a way out of this, but I’m in my own goddamn house. “Hey.” She says, in an admittedly cute tone of voice. “Hello beautiful.” What the hell am I doing? Even after this realization, I still cannot let up with the lines. It so constant and following, it disgusting. “You’re amazing.” At what Marissa, being able to make what is true, a lie? Or am I amazing at being able to control your mind, your heart even, to such a degree that you would actually believe that I care you’re here. The compliment on my abilities as a lover almost escapes me. “You’re not so bad yourself.” See? Right there. Truth and lie at the same time. While she thinks it’s just my way of being cute and playful, I mean it. She’s not bad, but she’s not great, she’s just ok for the time being. “Jack?” “Yes, dear?” My backup files kick into gear for whatever lover’s query or trap-question she may have in this vulnerable setting, I’m ready. My answer may even get me laid again. It’ll probably be something about the future, or rather, our future. Maybe an invitation to the mountains this weekend or dinner with her parents which, incidentally, I enjoy more than dinner with her I’m afraid. “Will you wake me at six? I’ve got a meeting at seven and I can’t miss it.”

Magic time, I just can’t resist. “Maybe, but you in bed all day may just be too damn tempting.”

Her eyes open wide and her legs follow suit.